A Paper Moon
by SunshineInSpring
Summary: Night is a strange time- a time for admitting secrets to the skies. A time when the world stands temporarily still. A time when Chandler can admit, if only to himself, how he feels. Pre-Mondler, Season 4. A moment in time to bridge the gap between New York and London. Features a quick cameo from Rachel at the end.


**A/N: Well, Hello there! This is my first venture into writing in the FRIENDS category, though I love the show, and have for quite some time now. This is mostly contemplative, set towards the end of season 4. I love the Mondler relationship, but always thought that there had to have been something brewing beforehand, and so this was created! As a result, it's not AU, maybe just a missing scene? I also think that beneath all of the jokes and sarcasm Chandler is a lot more hurt and vulnerable than he is often given credit for, so this is my attempt to make up for that.**

 **I would suggest listening to the song Its Only A Paper Moon by Ella Fitzgerald after reading this- it's what I wrote it to, and it really fits the piece.**

 **DISCLAIMER- I don't own FRIENDS!**

Night is a strange time- a time for admitting secrets to the skies, for looking for figures in the shadows, for gazing at the stars. We ask for the world at night, tell truths we would never admit in the light of day, and feel safe in our admittance, for whilst each day leads on to the next in a linear fashion, each picking up where the last left off, sometimes nights have a feeling of temperance around them. As though there is no sense of time preceding or following the moment. As though the world stops spinning, for a few hours, and allows magic to occur in the meantime. Miracles happen, fantastical events unfold, and stories are told, before the sun comes up in the morning, and the world spins on, forgetting what has happened.

This night was one of those. A day spent with the radio blaring in the background at the office- including a special feature interview with his mother- had left Chandler awake and unusually emotional, particularly for 2:38 am. Chandler Bing was not a man to let his emotions show often, preferring to cover any vulnerabilities up with a heavy dose of sarcasm and a helping of quick-wit, rather than face any awkward conversation, or difficult moments. But a night of dreams about his dysfunctional childhood- absent parents, with their far less than orthodox marriage, and bitter loneliness that had served as a constant theme throughout the years had left him feeling rather devoid and empty.

Sleep was definitely not an option tonight, or rather this morning, Chandler concluded, after a further five minutes of fitful tossing and turning. He rose, stuffing his feet into an old pair of rather tatty slippers and pulling on a dressing gown. Quietly he made his way into the dimly lit main room of Apartment 19, and he considered his options for the rest of the time left until his friends would awaken. The night was warm, and the room felt claustrophobic after the dreams of constricting loneliness, not to mention the heating which, despite Joey's numerous attempts to fix it, had developed a mind of its own and refused to be turned off. Fresh air sounded ideal, Chandler mused, as he padded across the room- softly in an effort to not disturb Joey and whoever the girl was that had come home with his room-mate earlier that night.

In the corridor, Chandler faced another dilemma- where to go to get his much-needed fresh air. Though the roof would have been ideal, it had been sealed off not twelve hours earlier due to some maintenance issue, and he really didn't feel like bracing the streets of New York dressed in a robe and slippers. Apartment 20 sounded like the best option, he would just have to be quiet as he made his way out of the window. He didn't need a yelling at from an irate Rachel, or even a quieter shout from waking Monica (although it would likely be followed by a much needed hug- Monica could never refuse her maternal instincts, he chuckled internally) pushing open the door as inaudibly as he could.

Apartment 20 had always served as more a home to he and Joey than Apartment 19, Chandler contemplated as he passed the sofa on tiptoe, and pulled open the window, letting himself out onto the balcony. With its inviting purple walls, and eclectic furniture, it had served as a stage for so many memorable events to be played out over the years. Though its line-up of occupants had changed several times over the years (Monica and Phoebe giving way to Monica and Rachel, before they had lost the bet to he and Joey, and then retaken their home), Monica's presence had always been the main reason for his continual visits.

Although he may not say it aloud often (especially in the presence of Joey, who would protest to the contrary) Monica was his best friend, the one person who he knew would always at least try to see his side of things. He pulled his robe closer against an imagined breeze as he looked out over the city. He had said it to her once, after Phoebe had finally moved out from the apartment, and hurt Monica badly in the process; she was his favourite person. He loved moments like that with her, though with the privacy issues within their tight-knit group of friends they were few and far between. He loved the fact that he could tell her anything, and have her not judge him for it.

Ross, Rachel and Joey, though they were his close friends, would never truly understand the hurt he had suffered in his younger years, and even now, with constant heartbreak and rejection from every relationship he entered. Phoebe's harsh life had left her with the outlook of a woman far older than her years, and though he admired her resilience, it had often left her predisposed to not understand his experiences, as he had had privileges she had only dreamed about.

Phoebe, through no fault of her own, could not comprehend that the money his –still living- parents had, coupled, of course, with the fact that they were still alive, had not, in any way, made up for the neglect and loneliness life had dealt him.

Monica, however, listened to his rants about his parents, and understood. She too had come from a reasonably wealthy background, but been neglected by her parents. Indeed, in Ross she had a constant reminder of the preference her parents had shown her brother, and somehow managed to love him still. Chandler scoffed slightly at the inky sky, wondering how she had managed to rise above that. God knew he never could.

It was Monica, then, that he had told all of his secrets to, he mused, as his eyes skimmed the smudgy skyline of the shadowed city. The waxy light from the buildings and streetlamps shone out into the dark sky ever so slightly, lending a parchment tint to the crescent moon which hung low over the city. He supposed it was only natural that he considered Monica his favourite person. She had never let him down, never fallen through on a promise. And, most importantly, he thought, as he considered a close, though indistinct pigeon perched on the smear of a telegraph post against the opposite building, he had never considered that she would.

A lifetime of broken promises, and half-hearted apologies had left him expecting the worst of people, something that often contributed to the collapse of relationships- just look at Kathy. Here, his mind snagged, and the comforting warmth of the glow of the buildings surrounding him seemed to harshen. Taking a deep breath, he forced his mind onward, remembering his own vow to Monica- to try to move on.

An unsuspecting smile made its way onto his face at the clear memory of the conversation from a month or so prior- whereby Monica had made him promise to stop blaming himself for the demise of that particular relationship. They had spent the evening curled up on the couch, watching Notting Hill (though he would deny that vehemently if Joey or Ross were ever to ask), and when the credits were rolling at the end of the film, Monica had removed herself from his side enough to look him in the eye and ask that of him. Faced with a surprising glimmer of tears in the normally clear cornflower blue eyes of his friend, he had stuttered out an agreement, and she had cocked her head to one side, considered him thoughtfully, nodded once and headed off to bed. He too had dragged himself off to bed not too long after, but feeling lighter than he had in days, and with the memory of moment seared into his mind, along with the scent of her shampoo, and the colour of those eyes.

No, Monica was not Kathy. She had never expected more of him than he could achieve, but always more than he thought possible. She had always been a (sometimes silent) supporter and made time for him and his pathetic issues, even when she herself had bigger problems than his whining. Monica Geller always seemed to make Chandler Bing feel less alone. The thought itself scared him a little- his dependence on his raven-haired friend was something he tried not to dwell on, for invariably it led down the path of thinking about how beautiful, and witty, and smart she was.

No, it was safer to leave that thought where it belonged- locked in the recesses of his mind, covered in several, very thick, defensive layers of sarcastic rebuttals and witty retorts, only to be accessed on nights like these, when the moon seemed a little flimsy, and the city a little quiet and the night a little less than a permanent mark on the record of his rather unimpressive life.

Suddenly feeling more tired, Chandler softly made his way back through the window, closing it quietly behind him as he crossed behind the couch and opened the door to the dark hallway between the two apartments. Before he left the dimly lit, purple walled room, he allowed himself to pause, and glance back at the door to Monica's room- only for tonight. A soft smile crept across his face at the thought of the woman herself, and he shook his head to rid himself of the notion. The time had passed. As he left, a figure in the shadows frowned at what she had just seen.

Rachel had awoken when Chandler had opened the window to climb back in to the apartment, and had been fully prepared to scream and yell until she saw it was him. Even the anger at being awoken, and the momentary fear of an intruder was wiped away by the vulnerable look on the man's face- she had never seen it there before. It was as though all of the sarcasm had simply melted away, leaving only a gentleness she had only seen glimpses of- and only when he was alone with her room-mate. The two shared a friendship and understanding that she could not help but be envious of, and as she saw him glance over to Monica's door, shake his head and leave, Rachel almost wanted to cry from the tenderness she saw etched into his features. To be cared for like that, even as a friend- well. She had had that once, though now she never let herself think on it. Her gaze fell on the window- maybe Chandler had had the right idea. Perhaps, just for tonight?

 _Perhaps, just for tonight, the night would be just magic enough that truths admitted to the stars, would not be written on the paper of the moon._

 **A/N: Well, there you have it. Hopefully you enjoyed, if you did, let me know in a review! Thank you for reading!**


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